Stoned

That evening I sat and I wrote and I wrote and a million different ideas would pour into my head. Thoughts about why someone never thought of these ideas. They would be discoveries and inventions never attempted. They were ideas of radical thoughts that would alter the way the humanity lives and thinks about its progeny. They were about love and how the loss of it makes you impassioned. These thoughts kept on gushing at me like the waves of the crimson tide. They washed me with their warmth and healed me with their speed. And then suddenly as the tide subsided I was jolted back to reality and the waves felt like those of the most roguish sea and the thoughts were pulled back with as immense a force as the world cannot reckon with. You become stone headed, mindless, closed and restrained with chains, oh so strong.

Then I thought about the intoxicant and how it leads us all back into the real world as against the popular notion. I would behave differently with people even after I am on a high; people with whom I have different relationships and different realities. And I realized that the “intoxicant” wasn’t working to intoxicate you, but it was life – the one big strange miracle of the gods – that was the intoxicant; always pulling you away from the reality.

We felt life rushing by as we walked faster and faster through it. The walk with her today felt like the best walk I ever had with her – silent and calm; it wasn’t this good even in those few months when we were lovers. That’s the irony of life; the best things happen to you when they are already gone.

Walking along the afternoon roads when you are high on marijuana, you do not narrow your eyes to impede the light filtering through and reaching your soul, but it comes to you as a savior; as a messiah of joy and it gladdens your soul. But when walking in the real world you narrow your eyes to restrain the light because you don’t want the joys and the happiness; you want to be miserable and feel the depression ripping your life apart.

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